


And Sorrow Was Sacred

by Into_Evernight



Category: AFI
Genre: M/M, Romance, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Into_Evernight/pseuds/Into_Evernight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times that sorrow can be beautiful, and there are times when it's too much. Adam wants Davey to learn when to take a step back before art can become all consuming and destructive. (Written for Kate/lurkeratleast)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Sorrow Was Sacred

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lurkeratleast](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lurkeratleast).



> Originally posted on AFIslash on 09/03/2011.
> 
> Author's Chapter Notes: It's been awhile, hasn't it? I haven't felt much like coming on here lately, mostly because I have a job (which is simultaneously amazing and horrible; I get paid to write though so mwahaha) and because I've spent more time role playing the Afees than writing fanfiction. And thus, my style has changed because I've kind of melded it with my RP partners. This story was kind of inspired by some prompts I received, as well as one of my RP universes as well as something MCR said about writing The Black Parade and how absolutely destroyed I can feel when I listen to Sing the Sorrow (it's utterly beautiful but sometimes it's just too much). So yeah. That's my take on that. :P
> 
> Written for the lovely Kate/lurkeratleast because she's wonderful and I love her. :P Oh, and because I felt bad for begging for birthday fic. LOL.
> 
> Disclaimer: These are mere characters based on the members of AFI (not the real members, duh). I do not own; I do not make money. No disrespect, harm, or libel is intended; this never ever happened (and never will) as this is 100 percent fictitious.

It'd been a long two weeks and Davey was exhausted. He had hardly slept at all during that time; most of his waking moments had been dedicated to creating art, to pouring over decimation and wounds in the manifestation of words. He and Jade had holed up in a shitty motel room and talked about the direction of their newfound project, had spent countless hours worrying over the words and the melodies. Sleep had taken a backseat to new beginnings, to new endings. And the only thing that had kept them alive, it felt, had been cup after cup of strong black coffee. The sleepless nights blurred together into one never ending symphony of insomnia—but lucid dreaming only made them search deeper within the recesses of their darkness, the songs coming alive with the sounds of the night.

The only reason he was even coming back home now was because of the emotional duress and exhaustion it brought him, the whole process. This album was a fuck of a lot harder to write—not because the words wouldn't come, but because they came too frighteningly easily. It was draining, and he knew if he'd stayed a day longer, he would've had a complete and utter meltdown. Jade had also been visibly affected, and they'd both agreed they needed a break from each other and the darkness and the negativity to regenerate.

Right now, he had just gotten back home and was lugging one of his many suitcases up the front walk. It felt far heavier than it should've felt, like every limb had been reduced to lead weight. Sighing shakily, he fumbled with his keys only to drop them on the step. “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, stooping over to pick them up. As he straightened up again, he thought he saw one of the curtains move, and a slight, albeit tired smile twitched on his lips. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside.

He found Adam at the kitchen table, hunched over a cup of coffee, the smell of which twisted his stomach. Because now he associated coffee with sleeplessness and sick feelings, of being doubled over on the bathroom floor at five in the morning. Adam had noticed him—he was sure of that—but he remained silent, hands wrapped around his mug. Dropping his bag to the ground, he wandered over to Adam's side and wrapped his arms around his neck, giving him a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek. “You didn't say hi to me,” he mumbled, rubbing soothing circles against tense shoulders.

Adam looked up at him, blue eyes rimmed with the same dark circles Davey had seen on his own face that morning. A shock of pity surged through him, and he ran his hand over Adam's face, thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” Adam said, sounding more than just tired.

Frowning slightly, Davey let his hand drop to Adam's shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

Adam didn't need to answer him for him to know there was. His eyes told the story for him as he gazed off to the side and refused to meet Davey's steady stare. There was something faintly sheepish about him, the way his brow softened and his mouth twitched.

Slowly, Davey brought himself to sit on Adam's lap, straddling him and facing him. He cupped his face in his hands and forced him to look at him. “Hey.” He paused, swallowing hard and flicking a careful tongue out over his lips. “What's wrong?”

Sighing, Adam encircled his arms around Davey's waist and held him loosely. For several moments, he was quiet and just rubbed his back. The touch was assuring enough to keep Davey from wondering if _he'd_ done something wrong. “I don't know, Dave. I don't want to talk about it right now.”

Concern welled up inside him like plumes of toxic black ink, and he ran his hands down to Adam's shoulders again. “That's fine,” he said calmly, evenly. “Talk to me when you're ready.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips over Adam's briefly, just in case it was unwelcome. “I missed you.”

Another sigh shuddered Adam's chest. “I missed you too. A lot.” Sincerity that sounded a lot more like worry laced through his words.

Davey frowned again, draping his arms around Adam's neck and bringing him close in a gentle hug. Closing his eyes, he breathed in his scent—cologne and soap mixed with the acrid smell of cigarettes. He peered down at him and caught sight of the faraway look in his eyes, that look he got whenever he was reminiscing or immensely sad. It bothered him, but Adam hadn't wanted to talk so he didn't pressure him. Instead, he kissed him gently along his jawline, kneading the taut muscles in his shoulders.

For a long time, they sat in silence. Adam just held Davey around the waist and Davey just kept his cheek pressed against his shoulder. Eventually, as the sun started to dip down below the horizon, Davey slipped from his lap and started clearing the table off. That burnt, stale coffee smell was really beginning to bother him; he soon found the source was the small amount left in the coffeepot on the counter. By the looks—and smell—of it, it'd been plugged in all day. Silently, he poured it out in the sink and rinsed the pot out only to place it back in its spot, going to the cabinets for the coffee grounds and the filters to make a fresh batch. He knew without asking that Adam wanted another cup.

“So, do you have plans for tomorrow?” he asked, trying to strike up a conversation. Any conversation would do. He didn't mind the silence, but he hadn't talked to him much lately.

Adam shrugged noncommittally. “Nah.” He smoothed out the creases in his rumpled newspaper, the loud crinkle filling the room and making Davey flinch. He'd always hated that sound. “I don't know. Depends on what you're doing.”

His answer made Davey stop what he was doing and turn to look at him. Again, Adam wasn't meeting his gaze. “Adam.” There was an edge to his voice, and it made Adam flick his eyes up at him momentarily. “Don't tell me you haven't done anything while I was gone.” It bothered him when Adam got like that. When he just shut down and didn't do anything because Davey wasn't there, or because Davey had shut down and wasn't doing anything. The fact that he had the power to affect Adam so immensely always made him guilty, uneasy.

Adam shook his head—to what, Davey wasn't sure. “No... I just haven't felt like...doing much.”

A nervous bark of a laugh escaped Davey, and his mouth twisted in a wry, ironic smile. “You're acting like someone died—” He stopped himself, the spark disappearing from his eyes and his smile fading. Holy shit. What if someone _had_ died? “No one died...right?”

Adam gave him this strange look—his brow furrowed and lips barely parted. “No.”

Sighing raggedly, Davey shoved the canister of coffee grounds back in the cabinet and leaned against the counter top, hip pressed against the edge. “Yeah? Okay.” He wanted to press him about it, but the moment he received a desperate, almost pleading look, he shut his mouth. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No, thanks,” Adam mumbled. “I just want some coffee.”

Now Davey was really bothered. He shot Adam a worried glance but did as he was asked. As he waited for the coffee to finish, he started brewing himself a cup of tea. And once their drinks were ready, he brought both mugs over to the table. No matter how hard he tried to start a conversation, Adam just wouldn't open up to him. Sometimes he got like that—where he just crawled back into his shell and nothing could get him to budge. Usually, Davey was fine with his silence; he'd chatter away while Adam sat quietly and listened. But tonight it was uncomfortable. He didn't know what was up with him or why he was closing up, but he was determined to crack him open and make him talk. It just might take a little time—and a whole lot of patience.

–

It wasn't until later when they were lying side by side in bed that Adam said anything substantial, anything on his own. Davey had just been lying there with his hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling and watching the shadows go by. He'd thought Adam was asleep, but then he rolled over and faced him, propping his cheek in a hand. Flicking his gaze up at Adam's silhouette, Davey opened his mouth to speak, but Adam beat him to it.

“I missed you a lot.” His voice was strained, as though breaking under the pressure of all the words he wouldn't allow himself to say. And Davey knew in that moment that it had very little to do with simply missing him.

Rolling over as well, he found himself close enough to feel Adam's body heat without actually being pressed up against him. Despite the mounting tension, it still made him shiver. The momentary pleasure was displaced by a swell of sadness, and he draped an arm unceremoniously over Adam's waist. He pressed a kiss against his collarbone as he drew closer. “I know,” he said quietly—too quietly.

A long moment of silence elapsed between them, and it felt like everything was caving in and closing around them. Davey felt cold, and though he was far from being alone, the bitter sting of loneliness gripped him anyway. Right now, there was an insurmountable gap opening up between them, and no matter how physically close they got, it wasn't helping. Adam was pushing him away whether he meant to or not.

When Adam spoke again suddenly, his tone was blunt and charred. “I'm only telling you this because I have to.” Davey glanced up, eyes dark, wary and uneasy. “It really fucking bothers me when you disappear like that.”

“Like what?” Davey asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He propped his chin in his hand, fingertips brushing against his lips. And he watched Adam with an intense gaze.

A moment passed, a moment of hesitation and discomfort. Adam didn't always feel comfortable opening up; it had to be something he thought Davey would get pissed about. “When you're with Jade.”

Understanding struck him, and he stared into Adam's eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see the turmoil lurking just beneath the surface. “Are you...jealous?” He paused, swallowing hard. “Because if you are, you shouldn't be. You have no reason to be. What I have with Jade is intense, but it's only friendship. I'd never do anything to betray you.” He paused, shaking his head.

It was true; he and Jade had chemistry to some degree, but they'd agreed long ago not to act on it. Mainly because they were fucking bad for each other. Just being around each other for extended periods of time, whether it was writing or touring or just hanging out, eventually eroded them until there was nothing left. Being emotionally intimate with Jade on any level sparked some ridiculously unhealthy blaze in him, one that tore him down and made him go literally crazy and sick. He'd feel like he was being smothered and eventually it'd get to the point where every second was strung out and tense and anxious. When they were apart, they were perfectly fine. But when they came together, what negativity and toxicity and darkness they harbored inside came pouring out and mixing in explosive, self-destructive ways. Adam knew that.

Adam's voice shook him of his thoughts and jarred him. “I'm not jealous. We've been together, what, eight years? I know you wouldn't throw that away.” Falling silent again, he reached out and combed his fingers through Davey's long hair, letting the silky strands sift between his fingers.

“Then...what's the problem?” Davey dared to ask, voice low and just above a whisper.

“I don't know, Dave.” A heavy sigh. Adam brought his hand up over his face. “I don't have a problem with you guys or anything, but sometimes don't you think it's a little...much?” He paused, letting it sink in. But Davey just kept staring at him with his brow creased in confusion, like he was speaking a different language.

“To be honest, I have no fucking clue what you're trying to tell me.”

Adam groaned a little. “I mean you and Jade. The way you get so involved you ignore everything. It'd be fine if it was for a day or something. But it's for _weeks._ ” He was quiet again, searching Davey's eyes and letting him think about this. Davey heard him swallow. “It's not good for you. I mean, I love the direction you're taking this but I can tell it's making you sick.”

Davey blew out a long, shuddering breath. “So what sense does it make for you to get fucked up and sick just because I'm fucked up and sick?” He reached up, tracing the features of his face—his crooked nose, his slightly chapped lips. Every feature that he knew so well he could trace them perfectly without even having to look.

“You're not fucked up and sick. Not unless you think so.” Adam caught his hand in his own, holding it tightly. His hand was slightly sweaty. “Cut the crap.”

If anyone else had said that to him, Davey would've gotten mad and told them to piss off. But Adam had always been blatantly honest with him. “Are you saying you don't think I should be miserable?” His voice was laced with an edge of caution.

“You don't have a reason to be. Unless you're not telling me something.” There—Davey heard it. The bleating undertone, the bleeding of his heart leaking out through his words.

“I'm fine,” he said softly, scooting closer until their bodies were pressed together. He lingered in the solid warmth, absentmindedly running his hands over Adam's arms and sides and back, feeling his body heat through the worn fabric of his T-shirt.

“Yeah? Can't blame me for worrying. I love you.” A long pause. Adam gripped his hand tighter, and Davey felt a tremor run through it. “Every time you let me in and I hear about your 'despair,' it kills me. Let me ask you something.” Here, he scooted closer, lacing their fingers together and staring into Davey's eyes. By now, their noses were touching, and Davey could feel his warm breath falling against his lips. “Are you unhappy?”

Swallowing hard, Davey shook his head, voice coming out in a wisp of a whisper. “No. Not at all. Not generally speaking anyway. I have my moments...everyone does. It's human to feel destroyed. It's human to feel decimated and consumed—but no one wants to talk about it. It's...cathartic to finally bleed it out.”

“Oh...” Adam paused again, looking like he didn't know what to say. So Davey continued.

“Jade and I don't try to hide it from each other. It's not healthy. We say what we feel when we feel it, and it tears us apart.” He sucked his lip ring in his mouth, sighing heavily. “That's why it comes out the way it does. Because when we talk, we get into these...philosophical discussions. It's extremely inspirational, but extremely draining. Trust me. You want no part of it and you certainly don't want that type of relationship with me. I refuse to go there with you.”

In the darkness, Davey couldn't see Adam's expression that well. What he did see, though, didn't seem too promising. He brought him closer against his chest, pressing him against his pained heartbeat.

“I can't,” he added, running his fingers up and down Adam's spine, delicately tracing each vertebrae. Leaning in, he dropped his voice to a whisper, as though conveying a terrible secret. “It'd ruin you. I don't talk about it because I cherish what we have and I want to protect it—and you. I love you but you can't go there. No one should be that close to another person. My relationship with Jade is a prime example of what happens when you let a friend get too close to your insides. It's a sacrifice, the price we have to pay for artistic merit.” A beat. He searched Adam's face, but he was still. “Do you understand what I'm saying? At all?” A twinge of worry gnawed at his stomach; Adam should know all this by now. Right?

For the first time since Davey had come home, Adam initiated contact on his own. Ducking down, he brushed his lips against Davey's, his breath a mixture of toothpaste, coffee, and cigarette smoke. The kiss was light but by no means gentle. “Yeah.”

He kissed him again briefly, tangling his fingers in his hair. And Davey returned his kisses ten times as passionately, working his mouth with his own. Humming softly, he rolled over onto his back, bringing Adam with him. Adam stretched out and half lay on him, pressing him into the pillows and kissing him harder until Davey could feel his teeth and his tongue and the wetness of saliva; Adam tugged on his hair and moaned softly against his mouth.

“Mm, Dave.” Adam pulled back slightly, breaths falling heavier on his lips. Davey's smile scrawled across his face and formed crinkles around his eyes; he could feel Adam shaking. A moment passed where they just stared into each others' eyes, and then Adam snorted. “Damn it, you made me forgot what I was trying to tell you.”

A warm laugh escaped him, and his grin waxed sloppy and crooked. “Good.”

Adam chewed his lower lip, gazing to the side as he concentrated. Davey felt that uneasy gnawing in the pit of his stomach again, and ran his hands up the front of Adam's shirt, trying to make him forget about their discussion. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about after trying to escape it.

“Come on, my dear. Don't think about it. Some things are better left unspoken.”

Adam snapped his gaze back to Davey. “Could I say just one more thing?”

Thoroughly disenchanted with the conversation, Davey propped himself up on his elbows, looking far less than pleased. “I don't have a choice, do I?”

“No. You don't.” Unable to help it, Adam smiled and pushed Davey back down to the bed. This time, it was Davey who wouldn't look at him. To show him he wasn't mad, Adam bent down and kissed his neck. Davey shivered, gasping softly, and he felt Adam's lips curve into a pleased smile. “Cool it with Jade, okay?” Adam mumbled against his skin, lips brushing against his pulse and all his most sensitive spots. “I have no problem with you being close. I do have a problem when you're deliberately hurting yourself.”

“Maybe you just don't understand the artistic beauty behind sorrow,” Davey said, half-scoffing and half-teasing.

“Is that what you call it?” Adam flashed him an amused, incredulous smile. “Whatever floats your boat. As long as you're okay.”

“I can assure you, I'm perfectly fine. I can handle it.” Davey brought him down for another kiss, lingering in the sensation for several long moments until he was dizzy and breathless and his toes curled. “Are you...okay with that?”

Adam shrugged. “You can do whatever you want. I'm not stopping you.”

“Fine, but are _you_ okay?”

Instead of replying, Adam just nodded. He slid off of Davey's body, grunting a little as he moved to lie on his side again. Taking Davey in his arms, he brought him up against his chest and curled up against him, spooning him until every inch of their bodies was flush. He pressed a wet kiss to the back of Davey's shoulder, and again at the edge of his inked wings. His hand wandered over Davey's bare stomach and chest, finally coming to rest over his heart and cradling the skin there, as though trying to hold it. And he brushed his thumb over the heated skin, eliciting a delightful shiver down Davey's spine.

Davey moved his hand up over Adam's, pressing it closer until their fingers were splayed out and inter-weaved, and he could feel his heart beating too quickly. Even after eight years, he still felt the same quiet intensity whenever he was with him. He still felt just as in love, if not more, as the day he'd locked eyes with Adam and it'd hit him like a bolt of lightning— _he was in love._ And it was that quiet intensity and the gentle sturdiness that kept him there, that kept him sated and grounded. Any attraction he'd had to Jade was too much to bear; it was too hot and stifling and uncomfortable. It was tense and strung out and left him gasping for breath. With Adam, it felt less like summer and more like winter—cozy and comforting and just cool enough to be soothing. He mused that they were the perfect example of how opposites attracted.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked suddenly, his voice sounding too loud in the darkness.

“Yeah,” Adam replied, voice muffled by the sticky hot skin of his shoulder.

“Do you trust me when I say everything will be all right? That I can handle it?”

Again, Adam kissed his shoulder and smoothed his hair. “You explained it to me. Of course I trust you.” He always had; Davey knew that much.

“Good. Now get some sleep. You look dead.”

He could feel Adam smirking against the skin of his neck, and his warm, moist breaths made the hairs there prickle and goosebumps rise. “Right back at you.”

Shifting to get closer to his body, Davey closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. For several moments, they lay in silence, just absorbing each others' body heat and stroking each others' skin. Gradually, Adam's movements grew slower, more languid, and finally they stopped altogether. Davey listened to his breathing deepen and even out, and he snuggled farther into the comfort of his blankets, starting to feel groggy himself. And, for the first time in two weeks with the absence of emotional unrest, he finally slept.


End file.
